


Shin Moomin Springdove

by LooneyLlama



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972)
Genre: I wrote this to de-stress so it's not my best work but hopefully it's still enjoyable, M/M, Shin Moomin characterizations, Snufkin is an awkward beanpole, and Stinky is surprisingly tolerable, crossposted to fanfiction.net, in which Moomin is very melodramatic, warning for mild cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooneyLlama/pseuds/LooneyLlama
Summary: Our favorite emotionally constipated vagabond has to deal with Moomin's crush on him, while also falling for the troll himself.  He doesn't handle it well.Based on the characterizations from the 1970 anime "Shin Mūmin."
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 28
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Moomin history:  
> This is NOT the anime where Snufkin is bald and has a gun. That's "Mūmin," the bizarre 1969-1970 Japanese show that Tove Jansson hated. "Shin Mūmin" is the 1970 series, which served as a reboot in terms of tone and content, but also as a sequel in terms of story, with the time between series also having passed in-universe. In this fic, I do acknowledge the series as a sequel for a couple of reasons:  
> 1\. Several episodes make more sense in this context. For example, it establishes that this Snufkin does not return regularly in the spring, and has actually been absent for a fairly long time.  
> 2\. The idea of Snufkin having a major glow-up in-universe is too funny to ignore.

“Snufkiiiiin!”  
Despite hearing the yell, the vagabond continued strumming his guitar. After two long years, Snufkin was finally back in Moominvalley. He had arrived to find Moomin in quite a bit of trouble; the troll somehow managed to break Mr. Hemulen’s horn, and was subjecting himself to grueling chores in order to pay for a new one. Feeling bad for his friend, Snufkin slipped Moomin a basket of fruit as he worked, and then finished chopping the firewood while the troll was away. The vagabond decided Moomin had worked enough when he got hurt hauling the wood back to town. After delivering a branch of feverberries to Moominhouse, he retrieved the old horn and repaired it himself, playing his usual tune for a bit before leaving it on Mr. Hemulen’s doorstep. Snufkin supposed he could have just helped Moomin without all the secrecy, but he could never resist an opportunity for a little mischief—especially not when Moomin was involved.  
“Snufkiiiiin!”  
Moomin’s shouts had gotten louder. Snufkin smiled to himself; it wouldn’t be long now.   
“Snufkin!!”  
“Hey. It’s been awhile, Mumi.”   
Sure enough, Moomin had found the vagabond. The troll rushed over and grabbed Snufkin from behind, wrapping him in a tight hug.   
“Welcome back, Snufkin.”  
After explaining his actions to Moomin and allowing the troll to twirl him around—it seemed he hadn’t gotten any less excitable in Snufkin’s absence—the two friends walked back to town.   
“You haven’t changed a bit, Mumi, except I seem to remember you being a little rounder.”   
Moomin swatted his arm. “Hey, trolls are supposed to be nice and rounded! Though I suppose you’re right—I’m all muscle now!”   
He attempted to flex like a circus strongman, making Snufkin chuckle. “I’ve also grown a little taller,” continued Moomin. “Not that can tell, considering your head is practically in the clouds!”   
It was Snufkin’s turn to look embarrassed. He had left Moominvalley only a few inches taller than Moomin, and returned almost double the other boy’s height. The ridiculous growth spurt forced him to break in a whole new set of old clothes, a rather irritating experience. The only items he got to keep were his scarf and hat, the latter of which Moomin was currently trying to snatch off his head.   
“And you’re not bald anymore, either!” Moomin giggled. “Oh, please let me see what you look like with hair!”  
“I wasn’t bald, I shaved my head.” Snufkin grumbled. Nevertheless, he obliged, removing his hat to reveal his scruffy black hair.   
Moomin froze in his tracks. His baby blue eyes went wide, and Snufkin shifted uncomfortably under his friend’s gaze.   
“Is something wrong, Mumi?”  
“N-no! No, of course not,” Moomin stuttered. “Uh, come on, let’s hurry up and get back to town! I’m sure the others want to see you too!”   
As the troll sprinted ahead, Snufkin could have sworn he saw a blush coloring his snout. Plopping his hat back on his head, the vagabond dismissed the thought. It was probably just the evening light. 

* * *

  
Snufkin had a problem.   
During the few weeks he had been back, he kept catching Moomin acting strange. At first, he could explain away all the seemingly accidental touches, all the stares, all the odd little sighs. But as time wore on and Moomin continued his bizarre behavior, Snufkin ran out of excuses for the troll. The vagabond was emotionally distant, certainly, but he wasn’t oblivious.   
Moomin had a crush on him.   
Even in the privacy of his tent, Snufkin felt the need to cover his face with his hat as he considered the whole situation. Moomin, while not as young as he seemed at times, was still terribly naïve. The vagabond supposed it wasn’t too surprising that Moomin would develop a crush on one of the few people he knew from outside the sheltered valley. In the troll’s mind, Snufkin was probably some kind of folktale hero, the mysterious wanderer who seemed to know all the answers.   
Of course, he was really just an awkward teenager who happened to pick up some useful skills during his travels. Surely Moomin would figure that out eventually.   
Snufkin took a deep breath to calm himself. Yes, Moomin would figure it out once he grew up a little more. His silly crush would fade, and then their friendship could go back to normal.   
_Or he’ll just forget about you,_ hissed the snide little voice in his head. _He’ll realize you’re just a worthless tramp, and he’ll never bother giving you another glance._  
Snufkin did his best to shake off the nasty thought. Either way, he supposed, he should just enjoy Moomin’s friendship for as long as he could. 

* * *

  
Spring turned into summer, and summer turned into autumn, and yet the issue of Moomin’s crush still wasn’t resolved. Sure, the troll calmed down about it, becoming much less obvious with his affections, but Snufkin could still feel it there, permeating every moment they spent together.   
It was terrifying.   
The vagabond was actually relieved when the cold north wind began blowing and the clouds warned of snow. If he could just grin and bear it for the rest of the season, he’d be able to leave the valley on pleasant terms with Moomin. Snufkin planned on a long journey, far away from the mountains and the snow and the choking feelings that hung in the air, and he didn’t intend on coming back until he could be sure this problem was gone.   
Hell, he might stay away until Moomin finds someone else and gets married. Snorkmaiden seemed willing enough, so perhaps it wouldn’t be a horribly long wait.   
Snufkin mused over this plan as he approached his tent. Suddenly, he froze; a sound was coming from inside. It was the strum of a guitar. _His_ guitar.   
Wordlessly, he crept into the tent. Moomin sat in the corner, lightly plucking the strings. Snufkin silently reached out and seized the instrument by the bridge, cutting off the sound.  
“Hi Snufkin!” Moomin greeted him. Snufkin gave no reply, nor even an indication he had heard it; he just walked across the tent and propped the guitar up against the opposite wall. Without even looking at Moomin, he turned to the woodpile and started a new stack.   
_1...2...3...4..._  
“Hey, why do you have a guitar? Everyone was talking about how many memories that guitar must hold.”   
Snufkin focused solely on counting the logs, letting the rhythm keep him calm. He couldn’t let himself get angry. He had to keep his cool.   
_5...6...7..._  
Moomin made a small sound, trying to prompt an answer from Snufkin, but the vagabond remained silent. Wasn’t it enough that Moomin and his damn feelings were always hanging around, occupying his every waking moment? Why did the troll have to poke his way into every little facet of Snufkin’s life?   
_8...9..._  
Moomin opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t find any words. Snufkin’s coldness seemed to fall over him like a shadow.   
Why did Moomin want to be so close?!  
 _10..._  
“I hate you, Snufkin!”  
SMASH!   
Snufkin finally looked up. His guitar lay mangled on the ground, and Moomin ran out of his tent sobbing.   
Eventually, the sound of Moomin’s wails and footsteps faded. Snufkin wanted to cry, himself; he wished he would scream, or sob, anything but this terrible freezing numbness. Try as he might, all he could do was kneel there on the ground, a hollow feeling in his chest. The hateful voice in his head snickered.   
_Well, he definitely doesn’t like you anymore._


	2. Chapter 2

Frost covered the ground every morning, the trees were completely bare, and yet Snufkin didn’t leave. He knew there was no point in sticking around now that Moomin hated him; he attempted to pack up and go multiple times, but he just couldn’t seem to get his feet to carry him out of the valley.   
So, Snufkin stayed. He found a branch to replace the broken neck of his guitar, and began whittling it into shape. As he worked by the firelight one evening, he suddenly got the sense he was being watched. Moomin was nearby, staring at his back. Snufkin simply continued his work, and eventually, Moomin left. The vagabond risked a glance at his retreating back, and wondered for the hundredth time what was keeping him in the valley. Was he expecting an apology? He certainly didn’t feel like he deserved one. With a quiet sigh, Snufkin returned to his whittling, only to stop short when he felt a snowflake land on his nose.   
Winter was here.   
By the next morning, the whole valley was coated in white. Snufkin finished repairing his guitar, and was simply retuning the strings. Hearing footsteps behind him, he let the last note he had played fade away.   
Moomin was back.   
“Your guitar is all fixed?”  
Snufkin turned to face the troll as he replied, “yes, it wasn’t too difficult.”   
A smile spread across Moomin’s face, and he hurried to the vagabond’s side. “I’m sorry, Snufkin!”   
Snufkin cast his eyes down. “I’m not proud of how I behaved, either.”   
“I shouldn’t have pried, though” admitted Moomin. “I wanted to learn more about you, but I get that you want your secrets to stay private.”   
Snufkin hesitated before replying, “it’s not as interesting as you think. I’m just a person who enjoys playing the guitar.” He kept his gaze forward, not wanting to see disappointment on his friend’s face. To his surprise, Moomin got up and faced him.   
“Hey Snufkin, would you play something for me?” The troll plopped down in the snow.   
“If you like.”  
He began strumming the Song of the Lonely Mountain. Glancing up, he saw a sweet smile on Moomin’s face, and couldn’t help but give him one in return.   
“When do you have to leave for the south?” Moomin sighed, nearly inaudible with the sound of the guitar.   
“What?”  
“Oh, nothing.” 

* * *

  
Snufkin said a quick goodbye to the Moomin family after the pre-hibernation party, thanking them for a wonderful year in the valley. Moomin looked a little upset that they didn’t have time for a proper farewell, but at that point, it was already dark, and the air smelled of a storm. When Snufkin returned to his campsite, the icy wind was trying to rip up his tent. Even worse, the snow had become deep enough to reach his exposed ankles, chilling them to the bone.   
Snufkin had stayed in the valley far too long. So why was he still struggling to leave?   
As he packed, he was surprised to hear Stinky approaching him, of all creatures. The vagabond half expected a trick, but Stinky was being surprisingly pleasant. The little beast even convinced his friend the Groke to swallow up the raging blizzard, allowing Snufkin to enjoy one last peaceful walk through the valley. He paused outside each of his friends’ houses along the way, wishing them a pleasant sleep. Finally, he and Stinky came to Moominhouse, the last stop on his way. Snufkin allowed the wonderful memories his time with the Moomins to wash over him, and they warmed him from the inside out. He whispered his farewell, and continued on his way.   
“I would like to know where you are going,” Stinky piped up.   
“I might journey somewhere where no one else has ever gone, or even heard of.”   
“Oh come on! You can’t go!”  
Snufkin felt a pang in his chest, but he kept walking as he replied, “there is a way of life for every creature, including myself.”   
Stinky seemed to understand that, and the valley felt silent once again. But then, somewhere in the distance, the vagabond swore he heard a familiar shout.   
“Snufkiiiiin!”  
He froze. Sure enough, Moomin was running over the hill toward him, his white fur blending into the gleaming snow. By the Groke, why would Moomin be outside now? Snufkin’s blood ran cold; did Moomin intend to try and come with him?   
“Snufkin! Thank goodness I was in time!” The troll fell to his knees, struggling to catch his breath.  
“What’s going on, Moomin? Why are you here?”  
“I wanted to give you something,” he panted.   
Snufkin blinked in surprise. “A gift for me?” He kneeled down in front of Moomin as the troll handed him a little box wrapped up with a ribbon. Snufkin opened it carefully to reveal a small pendant made from a gourd.   
“I made an amulet for you with Mama and Papa,” Moomin explained. “The person who made it and the person who receives it will always see each other one more time.”   
“Mumi...” Snufkin choked out, his eyes filling with tears. “I don’t think you can protect me from my long journey.”   
The troll looked at him, obviously concerned. Snufkin gave him a watery smile. “Heh, here we are about to part ways, and you’ve gone and teared me up.”   
“You...you like it? Hooray!” Moomin cheered, jumping to his feet.   
“Mumi, thank you very much,” said Snufkin, tying the amulet around his neck and tucking it under his scarf. The troll abruptly stopped cheering as the realization sank in: it was time for them to part. Moomin’s own eyes welled up with tears. Slowly, Snufkin extended his hand, and Moomin grasped it, his soft furry paw rubbing against the vagabond’s calloused palm. Snufkin gave him a rare smile.   
“Stinky?”  
“I’m coming.” The little beast hopped up onto Snufkin’s knee and placed his own paw on top of Moomin’s. Normally, the troll would have objected to the intrusion, but he felt like nothing in the world could ruin their moment. The three remained there, stock still in the cold, until nearly an inch of snow accumulated on their joined hands.   
Finally, Snufkin loosened his grip. “Farewell, Mumi. Farewell, Stinky.”   
“Snufkin...”  
“Mumi, I do not believe in the amulet, but I will cherish it.” The vagabond looked back one last time, staring into Moomin’s teary eyes. Then, he adjusted his pack and walked away.   
The troll watched his retreating back until he disappeared over the hill. Wiping his eyes, he managed a smile.   
“Goodbye Snufkin,” he whispered, turning to head home.   
Unknown to him, Snufkin had paused just on the other side of the hill, his heart pounding. His hand, still warm from holding Moomin’s, trembled as he reached up and felt the amulet tucked under his scarf. All of a sudden, it became clear why it was so difficult for him to leave the valley.   
Snufkin had fallen in love with Moomin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The episodes referenced in this chapter are "I Hate You, Snufkin" (episode 51) and "Farewell, Moominvalley" (episode 52).  
> I had to do a little research on the gift that Moomin gives Snufkin in episode 52. Omamori are amulets that grant the wearer a certain blessing, which varies depending on the type. They're based in Shinto and Buddhism, but have become fairly secularized in modern times. Omamori also have an "expiration date" of sorts; their power only lasts a year.   
> Who says fanfics aren't educational!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little info on the gift that Moomin gives Snufkin in episode 52: Omamori are amulets that grant the wearer a certain blessing, which varies depending on the type. They're based in Shinto and Buddhism, but have become fairly secularized in modern times. Omamori also have an "expiration date" of sorts; their power only lasts a year.

In the sunny south, on a sandy beach next to a sparkling blue sea, Snufkin was screaming into his hat.  
“Aaarghmmph!”  
His face felt like it was on fire, and his heart threatened to burn right out of his chest. Utterly overwhelmed, the vagabond fell to his knees in the sand. A cool wave lapped comfortingly at his boots, prompting Snufkin to glance shyly over the brim of his hat. Impulsively, he yanked off his boots, scarf, coat, and hat, leaving them in a heap on the beach. Wading into the water, he let the coldness soothe the feelings raging inside him.   
In Snufkin’s earliest days as a wanderer, back when he was still afraid of the creeps that lurked in the dark, the sound of the sea had lulled him to sleep each night. Perhaps it could comfort him again.   
“I...I’m in love with my best friend,” he admitted. Saying it aloud was terrifying, but liberating at the same time. The rushing waves held no judgement, giving Snufkin the courage to continue.   
“It’s ridiculous, I know, that I managed to fall for Moomin without noticing. But I’ve never felt like this before.” He chuckled bitterly. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Developing feelings for the first person to ever treat me as a friend instead of a nuisance.”   
A sickening thought struck Snufkin like a hailstone to the head. “Oh, Groke...and I thought his crush on me was the reason why things felt awkward between us—but it was my fault all this time! His feelings probably faded months ago!” His eyes stung as the notion sunk in. “Maybe Moomin never even liked me that way...maybe I was just fooling myself the whole time.”   
Snufkin hoped that the salty droplets running down his face were just the ocean spray. “I’m a terrible friend.” His old plan to stay away from the valley until Moomin was a married troll leapt to mind. If he waited long enough, perhaps this love of his would fade into numbness, just like so many of his feelings seemed to.   
“Or maybe I shouldn’t go back at all...” he trailed off. Suddenly, the amulet around Snufkin’s neck felt warm; not burning hot, but just pleasantly warm, like the glow from a campfire. He carefully cupped it in the plan of his hand. By accepting this, hadn’t he promised he would return to Moomin?   
But Moomin didn’t make it to trap him. His friend proved that he respected the vagabond’s need for space after the guitar incident. No, it was entirely Snufkin’s decision whether or not he returned to Moominvalley. He looked out over the glittering sea, so similar in color to Moomin’s eyes.   
“I don’t know if I can hide this, and I don’t know what to tell Mumi if he finds out. But I want to go back. So I will.” 

* * *

  
Patches of snow still littered the grass when Snufkin returned to Moominvalley that spring. He felt the stares of the birds and the little creeps boring into his back as he made his way to Moominhouse; they weren’t hostile, per say, but they weren’t welcoming, either. It was as if the valley itself was wondering why he was already back. Trying his best to ignore the questioning stares, Snufkin leaned against the bridge, his casual posture at odds with the butterflies in his stomach.   
Was he really ready to face Moomin so soon? Swallowing hard, Snufkin picked up his guitar and began strumming the Song of the Lonely Mountain. The tension in his shoulders eased as he played the tune, and despite his anxiety, Snufkin couldn’t help but sing along to the guitar.   
“Ame ni muretatsu...osabishiyama yo...ware ni katare kimi no namida sono wake wo oo oo~”  
A tiny smile appeared on his face. He had been playing this very same song when he first met Moomin almost four years ago. Somehow, the troll hadn’t been put off by his rudeness, and the two shared a lunch of freshly caught fish.   
“Yuki furi tsumu...osabishiyama yo...ware no katare kimi no tsuyosa no sono wake wo oo oo~”  
They braved the Lonely Mountain together that day. The journey had been perilous, and frankly, rather ridiculous, what with all the strange creatures they met on the way to the peak. Not to mention all the trouble they accidentally caused afterward by bringing one of the beasts back with them, which ended up turning all the wine in town into water, and then turning the whole lake into wine. Snufkin had nearly lost his breath laughing at the sight of the drunk Hattifatners.   
“Yuhi ni ukabu...osabishiyama yo...ware ni katare kimi no egaou no sono wake wo oo oo~”  
Despite only knowing him for a day, Moomin had told Snufkin that he liked him, that he wanted to see him again and go on more adventures. The vagabond still remembered feeling shocked—it had been the first time anyone ever told him they wanted him around.   
“Ooo~” Snufkin let the last note fade away, along with the rest of his nervousness. No matter what happened, his friendship with the troll would be fine. He trusted Moomin.   
“I’ve always loved that song,” said a voice behind him. Snufkin almost dropped his guitar in the river.   
“Mumi!” He fumbled to catch the instrument as the troll laughed behind him.   
“Sorry, Snufkin! I didn’t think I would scare you—I’ve never managed to sneak up on you before!”   
“Ah well, I suppose I’m a little distracted today.” His guitar safe, the vagabond turned to face Moomin. The troll had grown over the winter, he noted; he was only a foot shorter than Snufkin now.   
“Is something wrong?” Moomin asked hesitantly. “You are back a lot earlier than anyone expected—most of us thought you wouldn’t return for at least another year.”   
The words weren’t meant as a reprimand, but Snufkin felt chagrined just the same. He fished the amulet out from under his scarf. “You gave me this at the beginning of the winter. Its powers would have run out by next year.”   
“That’s true,” Moomin said slowly. “But I thought you didn’t believe in Omamori.”   
“I don’t.” Snufkin willed himself not to blush as he tucked the amulet back underneath his scarf. Moomin considered him for a long moment before giving him a sweet smile.   
“Should I start making one for you every year, then?”   
“I’d like that, Mumi” whispered Snufkin. The troll’s grin somehow grew even brighter.   
“Heh. Speaking of Omamori, I’ve taken to wearing this one.” Moomin lifted his tail to show Snufkin the charm tied to the end. “Snorkmaiden gave it to me. It’s supposed to bring the person who wears it good luck in, er, romantic endeavors” he finished shyly.   
His face remained stoic, but internally, Snufkin desperately tried to smother the hope flickering in his chest. Why had their conversation taken such a dangerous turn?   
“Snufkin, I...well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but last spring, I kinda had a crush on you.”   
The vagabond nodded stiffly, eliciting a nervous chuckle from Moomin. “Yeah, I didn’t think I had done a good job of hiding it. I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but...” the troll took a deep breath. “It didn’t go away, Snufkin. It just grew and grew until I was completely in love with you.”   
Snufkin’s throat tightened. He felt as though he could barely breathe, much less speak. Out of all the ways he had rehearsed their reunion in his head, he hadn’t even dared to imagine this scenario. Shouldn’t he be happy? Why was he frozen stiff with fear, when this was what he wanted so badly?   
“Snufkin?”   
His stomach twisted with guilt. He had say something, anything, or Moomin would realize what a wreck he really is and take it all back, but he just couldn’t get himself to speak. Hands trembling, Snufkin grabbed his hat and pulled it over his face. His intrusive thoughts sneered at him; _you don’t deserve his affection, you can’t even FEEL correctly, what’s wrong with you—_  
A pair of soft, warm paws covered his own, gently lowering his hat from his face.   
“Snufkin, please let me see you.”   
Hesitantly, he met Moomin’s eyes. “That’s better,” said the troll, giving him a small smile. “You don’t need to hide from me, ok? I get that you’re a private person, and if you really want me to, I’ll back off, but I don’t ever want you to feel ashamed of expressing yourself in front of me. Even if you’re worry it’ll make me think less of you, or that it’ll hurt me, I still want to know what you’re feeling. You’re my best friend.” Moomin swallowed hard. “And if you don’t want me as a partner, I hope you’ll still be my best friend.”   
The vagabond felt himself tearing up yet again, but for once, he wasn’t ashamed. Finally finding his voice, Snufkin mumbled, “I think I express all my feelings backwards. Every time I’m happy, I end up crying.”   
“Nothing wrong with that,” Moomin replied, giggling. Snufkin managed a chuckle as well. He let his hat fall to the ground, repositioning his hands to hold Moomin’s paws.   
“I-I’m in love with you as well, Mumi, and it scares me, because I don’t know how to be in love with someone.” He clutched the troll’s paws a little tighter, gathering all his courage. “But if you’ll have me, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather learn with than you.”   
Moomin beamed like sunlight reflecting off newfallen snow. “When you put it like that, it sounds as though we’re starting a new adventure.”   
Snufkin smiled back, face aglow. An adventure, now that was something he could handle. He was eager to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The episode I mentioned in which Snufkin and Moomin first meet is the Mūmin (1969) episode "Where is the Wonderful Spring?"  
> Snufkin's song is called "Osabishiyama no Uta." I recommend giving it a listen; it's very soothing.

**Author's Note:**

> The episodes referenced in this chapter are "Snufkin's Back" (episode 4) and "I Hate You, Snufkin" (episode 51).


End file.
